Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Olympic

//olympic

Atlanta 1996

A secret madpersondrifts like a miasma, inner excitementscreaming like a siren,waiting to rip throughlively celebration,walking through the crowd,can’t wait for the sightof fear, panic, and death. Like a tornado snatches,taints and destroys,strikes at the unawarewho exult in the beauty of healthy young bodies, those striving to be best,those who love a contest.But, like ants in a crushed nest,Olympians carry on, and so do the rest.Flowers are placed on cement christenedby death and blood.Words are spoken.The contests begin again:great athletes compete,new records are made.The torch is alight.